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Shattered	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 8001 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 20
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Chapter Twenty-One – Foster Conway
Foster awoke to the scent of lilacs and frowned. Nathaniel was sleeping in his customary spot on his lap, his arm tucked around the Death Knight’s neck, holding onto his ponytail. The scent was coming from his brother, what would it take to rid him of the stench of that bloom? A shuddered overtook Nathaniel’s thin frame. “I love you, Baby Brother,” Foster whispered in the slender ear nestled against his own.
“Not a nightmare,” Nathaniel whispered back, “just cold.”
Eyeing the flames of the fire nearby, Foster frowned. “My watch is ending,” Skang said from the mouth of the cave. “The worst has passed outside, just a steady rain now. Let me try to keep you warm, elf. Our brother has a strong heart but his curse has robbed him of his warmth.”
There was no complaint as Skang set down next to them, only a soft sigh as Nathaniel unwrapped his fingers from Foster’s hair. “Too shattered to even be ashamed,” he whispered as he moved himself over to the orc’s lap.
“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Foster said, reaching for his rune blade to take over the watch.
Skang’s curses stopped him and he glanced over at the orc, who had a broad hand pressed against Nathaniel’s forehead. “He burns with fever, how did you not notice?”
“He says he’s cold,” Foster said confused.
“Freezing,” Nathaniel agreed his teeth chattering to prove the point. Foster knelt and tucked a wool blanket around his brother. He pressed a hand against his cheek, it was balmy but to him everyone was warmer than he.
“What do we do?” Foster asked.
“Let it run its course, we have no healer, just some ointments to treat battle wounds. Probably just a chill he caught being out in the storm. In my pack you’ll find a small green bag, bring it to me.”
Took Foster a moment of looking but eventually found the small velvet bag and brought it over to the orc. Skang took something out of the bag and crushed it in his hand, it became a white powder. “Open.” Nathaniel’s lips parted and the orc took a pinch of powder and put it on his brother’s tongue. The taste caused the elf to gag and Skang followed it up with a drink of water. “It will help with the chills,” he said, giving Nathaniel another dose. After all the white powder was gone the orc adjusted his brother on his lap, and then leaned back against the cavern wall. “Go on your watch, brother,” Skang said, “we both just need to rest now, and the medicine I gave him will help him do so.”
The Death Knight nodded and then noticing both of Nathaniel’s hands in his lap he took one and tucked it around the orc’s thick neck. The elf fingers wrapped around the ebony ponytail as Foster patted his brother on the top of the head before standing. He checked on Sara who slept on a small mat, curled up next to her was the raptor hatchling she named Omelet. Tucking a quilt over her shoulders he added a couple more pieces of wood to the fire, Skang and Sara had done well collecting firewood before the storm. There would be enough to get them to morning. Sitting down at the mouth of the cave, he faced outwards, the rune blade across his lap. The rain continued to fall, the marshlands were still.
He let his mind wander over the events that had happened earlier in the day. It had become obvious pretty quickly that Nathaniel wasn’t trying to out run him, and after they had gone only a couple of miles, his brother had pulled up on the reins and stopped his horse. As Foster approached Nathaniel hopped down and removed his mail breastplate. The elf’s frame was too thin and he frowned at how the cotton shirt hung on Nathaniel’s emaciated body.
“You need to eat more,” Foster said as he swung off Knight and started removing his heavy plate armor. “Ma will be beside herself if you come home looking like that.” Unlike his brother he completely removed his armor, leaving himself barefoot and bare chested, with just his cotton pants on. Nathaniel approached and looked him over, taking in the skin that had turned grey with his first death. A pale hand traced a scar that ran down his left breast, it was his only scar. “I don’t blame you,” he said.
“That’s not what you said …” the voice and hand trembled.
“I said things back then to hurt you, the only way someone that loves you as much as I do could … you know that …”
“You speak very freely of love for a being that once swore he was incapable of such an emotion,” Nathaniel said stepping back and raising his hands up in front him. As he curled his fingers into fists, a look of terror crossed his eyes and the hands flew open.
Crossing the distance quickly, Foster grabbed his brother’s shaking hands. “I love you Baby Brother,” he said and Nathaniel’s frightened gaze focused on him. After waiting for the fear to fade, he slowly curled the fingers into fists and stepped back. “I’m a Conway, family is the most important thing … I just had to purge the darkness from my heart to see it.” Foster raised his own hands and nodded his head.
There was brief moment of indecision and then Nathaniel relaxed into a fighting stance. His hands remained curled into fists; Foster admired the courage it took for his brother to keep his demons at bay. “Shall we?” he asked again gesturing and easily blocking the punch that answered him.
As expected Nathaniel’s moves were sluggish and easy to block. “You attack like a novice,” Foster said with a smirk.
“Been awhile,” Nathaniel replied, “since I was allowed to fight back.”
Suddenly his brother dropped to the ground and kicked up his feet, bracing himself with his arms. Carefully grabbing Nathaniel’s ankles Foster swung him around, and dropped him on the ground, letting him roll back to his feet. “You’re too slow for an attack like that,” Foster chastised. They continued to wrangle, with Nathaniel unable to touch him. As exhaustion and frustration started to build Nathaniel’s moves became even sloppier.
“Don’t just stand there,” his brother growled, “fight back!”
Foster chuckled, “that would be unwise … are you done?” Another easily blocked punch answered him and with a sigh, he grabbed the wrist and twisted his brother around so he could hold him tightly in a bear hug from behind. “We’re done,” he said.   The back of Nathaniel’s head slammed into his face.
With a growl he threw Nathaniel away and the elf landed roughly on the ground. Taking a step back he raised his hands. “Stop now,” he said, letting darkness creep into his voice. The elf stood up and blood trickled down his chin from a busted lip. To his disbelief and rising anger, the lithe form of the elf told signs of another incoming strike. At his command the air around his brother grew frosty and then in an instance froze solid, holding the elf in place. “Please,” he begged, “don’t.”
Nathaniel eyed the icy chains around him as his shoulders slumped. A scream of frustration followed, at the same time Foster broke his spell. His brother remained where he’d been standing; his fingers went to play with the hem of his shirt. “Stop that,” Foster said softly and the hands fell. “Love you, Baby Brother.”
“Then why don’t you fight me, like you used to?” Nathaniel asked as he picked up his tunic and slipped it on.
“Because we aren’t like we used to be,” Foster replied collecting his own armor and putting it back on. “Your body hasn’t recovered, nor your spirit … and I’m a ticking time bomb …”
“You won’t hurt me,” Nathaniel said.
“History says otherwise,” Foster replied, “look at Skang’s face, it could have been you! I will do everything I can to never hurt you again. Which means our jousts have to be one sided, let me take your anger but please don’t ask me to turn mine onto you. I never want to be the source of fear in your eyes again.”
Nathaniel approached and Foster embraced him. They had always been affectionate towards each other; something Nathaniel had brought home with him from the time with the elves. That made his cruelty under the Lich King even more painful, they had almost taken everything from the both of them. He held the too thin elf for a long moment, feeling the familiar tug on his ivory ponytail. Lightning danced across the sky. “We should return to camp,” Foster said, breaking the hug and stepping back.
A look of shock and trepidation crossed his brother’s face, his eyes focused on something over Foster’s shoulder. Pulling the elf to him and praying his armor was strong enough to absorb any attack he quickly moved to his right and toward a small outcrop of trees.
“Dragon!” Nathaniel yelled, as a dark shadow passed over them. Blood began to chill, hardening for the attack. A scream came from the one in his arms and he noticed the bare neck of the elf turning blue from frost, with a curse he threw his brother toward the trees and away from him.
“Take cover,” he ordered as he pulled the rune blade from his back and tried to locate the dragon. The large form was hard to miss and Foster cursed again at the black scales covering the beast’s body.   The dragon hovered overhead its large wings beating, studying them. Chanting he called upon the army of the damned and all around him, ghouls crawled out of the earth bound to his will.
To his surprise a deep laugh came from the dragon, “can your creations fly Death Knight?”
“No,” Foster admitted, “but they don’t need too.” Once again he called on the darkness within and a large blood red tentacle shot out from him and circled around the beast, pulling it from the sky with a mighty crash. The ghouls tackled the startled dragon in a rush, clawing at its scales. Foster caused the ground around it to wither and die.
“Brazen little whelp,” the dragon snarled as it stood, seemly effortlessly, shaking the ghouls off. They quickly leapt again and were met with a fiery final death. Foster held his ground as the dragon turned its attention to him. At that moment the storm that was brewing showed itself with a ferocious downpour. The rain drops hit his armor and froze with a hiss. “You face death without flinching,” the dragon said, it’s serpent like tongue showing through the large teeth. “I shall make it a quick one, then.”
Steadying himself Foster waited. As the dragon reared back its head to strike he tightened his hold on the blade in his hand. Suddenly his foe let out a horrific roar, in its left eye was buried a burning arrow as it shook its head the flames seemed to spread down its face, unhindered by the rain that was soaking them both. Foster rushed forward but the giant beast lifted itself up off the ground and out of reach. With another screech it turned its attention the archer hiding in the trees, diving toward the coppice. Foster used his grip of death on his brother pulling the elf to him, knocking the bow away as he did. The claws of the dragon grabbed the tethered horse and the animal let out a scream as dragon and steed disappeared into the storm.
“Let’s go!” Foster shouted, ushering Nathaniel over to Knight who was standing nearby, the old warhorse unfazed by the battle. His brother picked up the bow he’d dropped and swung it over his shoulder as he climbed on behind Foster. They had only gone a short distance when the hail started striking his armor it sounded like bullets. Nathaniel grunted under the assault. “In front of me, quickly,” Foster ordered. The agile elf quickly swung around and Foster pulled him close wrapping his cloak around Nathaniel first and then his arms covering as much as he could. Knight wasn’t thrilled with the weather but the curse of undeath caused his faithful horse to continue. He was wondering about shelter when the faint glow of the fire had caught his eye. It had been a relief to find Skang and Sara within.
A wet tongue on his hand brought him back to the present, at his side was Omelet, looking up at him expectantly with large blue eyes.   A quick look through the packs he found a small piece of smoked meat and tore it off, offering it to the raptor. The critter obviously wasn’t happy with the choice but ate it and then let out a pitiful whine; one that was echoed from within the cave. Swearing softly he stood and walked over to where Skang slept leaning against the wall, feverish eyes of his brother watched from where his sweat soaked hair rested against the orc’s emerald neck.
“Not cold any more, Little Brother,” he said as he bent down and laid a hand against the flushed cheek. The elf leaned into the cool touch. “Fuck,” Foster whispered, as his thumb brushed away a tear. The pain reflected in the sapphire eyes was devastating; it wasn’t just the fever it was Nathaniel’s soul looking up at him, silently pleading. He was a shattered spirit, desperately looking for a lifeline; in a brother tainted by the blackest of sins. “Lov …” the word stuck in his throat, choking him. What right did he have to say such a thing after all he’d done? Pulling away he stumbled to the mouth of the cave and out into the rain, letting the water falling from the sky, wash away the salty tears. Skang was right, he didn’t belong here … not any more, he belonged with the other Death Knights, fighting The Lich King and stopping that monster from doing this to any other family. Sara and Nathaniel could make their way to Stormwind on their own; he was more a curse than aid. He chanted and the death gate appeared; a couple of steps and he would be back at Ebon Hold to join the others in Northrend.
“I’ll follow you.” Foster startled, Nathaniel was standing at his side. “I followed you into hell; all the snow in Azeroth won’t stop me … you need someone to watch your back.” A familiar smirk came to Nathaniel’s lips.
“I do more harm than good,” Foster said, “get back inside, damn it, you’re sick.”
“You’re my only lifeline keeping me from stepping off the ledge,” Nathaniel said. “Please … I love you, Foster. Don’t leave me, not yet … I know someday you will, I’ve always known that even before all this happened. But not now, please just not now …” The elf sighed and turned back to the cave, his thin frame shaking from chills.
The use of his name, over the common Big Brother struck Foster in a spot he no longer thought he had, his soul. Dismissing the gate he followed Nathaniel back into the cave.
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Shattered